


In Another Life, At Another Age

by Eva_Emaria



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Mockingbird (Comic), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Parallel Universes, Swearing, The Mockingverse, The Red Room, When two AUs meet, i'll add more characters as they show up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 04:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10869552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eva_Emaria/pseuds/Eva_Emaria
Summary: What was supposed to be examining the signs of a crash quickly turns a whole lot complicated when Clint runs into...himself?The butterfly effect isn't a joke.Things get really confusing for a little while as everyone sorts out what to call each other.And wait, Bobbi is Natasha's SISTER?(Note: this is what happens when The Mockingverse by the lovely MsMockingbird meets my own little AU, which I blame entirely on the wiki not having her family information updated for a very long time so I had to improvise for an RP...which then mutated because I'm an awful person.)





	1. You Came Crashing into My Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MsMockingbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMockingbird/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a plane crash, there are doubles...Clint is having a really weird day.

So far, nothing had come up from the alert. He’d found the crash site, sure, but nothing had appeared to survive impact, so there was just one really ugly stretch of torn earth to look at cutting its way through English forest.

Clint was fully prepared to call Lance and gripe at him. The one weekend where they were getting to _finally_ get that beer while Bobbi was having a girls’ night, and they were _wasting_ it.

Hold that thought.

He wasn’t sure what it was that gave her away, but when his attacker leapt at him, he was already turned around to meet her. She was too fast for him to get a draw of the bow. Clint instead settled on rolling them, using the momentum of the hit to get some distance.

By the time his feet were back under him, he had an arrow on the string, and was looking down the shaft at…Natasha?

Stunned, he lowered the tip, even as she kept her gun pointed at him. He tried to puzzle this out, even as his sniper focus began picking up details that led him to a confusing conclusion. The short bob of brilliant red curls was darker, not to mention a style he thought she had retired. Her weapons were laid out in an older pattern too, and while her face was still aesthetically the most beautiful of the Avengers, it was…softer than he saw last Saturday while she was cussing him out in a friendly spar. It was Natasha…maybe a decade ago or more. Back when he first met her.

She stayed her weapon, refusing to let her guard down. “Clint, how much like you does your brother look?”

What the hell? He made a funny face at her. What did Barney have to do with this?

Before he could answer, she minutely shook her head and gestured with her chin. “Turn around and walk,” she ordered.

“Nat, I’d really appreciate it if you’d explain what is going on,” he said patiently.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

Playing along was definitely the best route here. The loss in years would give him an advantage against a younger Nat, and she wouldn’t know not to mess with his ID card if he really got in over his head. If she was a doppleganger, she was screwed, and if she wasn’t, he hadn’t done anything permanent. He pivoted and walked, Natasha or whoever she was giving careful and quiet orders behind him.

Leading him right back to the damn crash site. Only this time, it wasn’t empty. There was a near-totaled quinjet sitting at the end of the churned earth trail, further out than he’d had a chance to look. The back was open, and sitting there was—

Clint stopped walking. “Okay, what the fuck is going on?” he spat out.

A decade and a half(ish) younger version of him stood up, looking just as confounded. He had that ridiculous half-ass attempt at a goatee around his mouth, he was missing all the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth but had the stupid one right between his forehead already. He wasn’t quite as built or as scarred, didn’t move with the stiffness in the joints like he did now.

“Widow, that is not my brother,” the imposter said. “That’s _me.”_

*****

They hadn’t trusted him inside the jet. He didn’t blame them, this entire situation was bizarre. Clint the Older (as he had dubbed himself) sat cross legged in the field, the younger Natasha and Clint settled on parts of the jet. Bruce was currently on speaker via Jarvis, who announced there was an outdated version of him on the jet but it was no longer functioning, which the younger doubles confirmed happened before the crash.

“So you’re telling me we have a possible time paradox on our hands?” Bruce demanded with his patient, what have you idiots done now, voice.

“It’s not my fault,” Clint immediately pointed out.

“I’m not sure it’s time,” Natasha added at the same time, a thoughtful frown on her face. She glanced at her Clint and he nodded, showing that he agreed with her. He was being strangely quiet, which Clint the Older wasn’t sure what to make of. Being quiet wasn’t usually his shtick.

“Parallel world theory?” Bruce sounded thoughtful now. “It’s true, Bobbi proved its existance last year. It’s as plausible of an explanation as any.”

Clint the Older did not miss the look the two misplaced Avengers exchanged. What followed was a conversation told in micro expressions that he couldn’t completely follow, it happened so fast. He upped their ages a couple of years—it had taken time for him and Natasha to be that close as partners.

Whatever they argued about, Clint the Younger won. “We should go somewhere else while we figure out a way to get us back,” he said. “Out of the cold and wet.”

Natasha hadn’t completely conceded yet. “Although we are going to ask that our presence is a secret as much as possible. Some of us have…delicate…situations.”

“Bring them to the tower,” Bruce said, and hung up.

Rolling his eyes, Clint the Older jerked his chin to the side. “Alright, this way. I’ll have to talk to Hunter as we move, since I wasn’t supposed to go back to the States until tomorrow.”

Clint the Younger nodded, but before he could move, Natasha called out at moderate volume, “James, is she awake?”

“Despite your attempts at the contrary? No,” a third voice called from the quinjet. And Clint the Older almost started swearing, wondering how he’d missed one.

His counterpart was snickering, and that didn’t help. “If it makes you feel better, he’s really good at being quiet when he wants to,” he offered the older and trotted inside. “Hang on, James, if she wakes up with you carrying her she might try to stab you again.”

“I thought you disarmed her.” James sounded much crankier at this news.

Clint the Younger’s feathers refused to be ruffled. “I don’t know all her hold outs.”

“Stab him? Again?” Clint the Older raised his brows at Natasha.

She was scowling as if the memory of the situation offended her. “Little sisters are ridiculous,” was her cryptic answer.

The steps down the ramp this time were heavier, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. James Buchanan Barnes came stomping down, wearing a leather jacket that covered his metal arm from immediate noticing, his hair longer than the Bucky Clint had left at the tower and worn pulled back at the nape of his neck in a neat ponytail. It was easiest to think of this other-version of the Winter Soldier as the James that Natasha called him, and he even agreed to it.

What irked Clint was the version of his quiver on James’s shoulder and the bow in his hand. What was his younger/other self doing that had him giving up his primary weapon?

The answer came as Clint the Younger came out, moving much more gently than Clint was used to except in very specific circumstances, carrying…

It was the little details at first. A flash of bare skin just over the shoulder where super-long finger-less gloves stopped and before a sleeveless top began, black with dark blue trim. It looked like an overly long tactical tunic, with slits in the front, back, and side to allow freedom of movement. Her arms were hanging across her carrier’s chest, limp. Knee-high combat boots, gun holsters empty where they were strapped to her thighs, where Clint the Younger’s arms were hooked. The strong features of her face were softer, still a little lost in baby fat around her chin and cheeks. And the silky blonde hair was cut in a short, curly bob that he had never seen even hints of before, her head tucked safely into the other Clint’s neck.

He wasn’t sure if Natasha misunderstood his reaction for confusion on purpose or if she just didn’t care. “My little sister, Bobbi Romanoff. She’ll wake up soon and I suggest not being around when she does.”

That startled words out of his mouth. “What did she do this time and is there anything left of the other guy?” he asked, leading the way back to where Hunter was supposed to rendezvous with him. He wasn’t touching the sister bit with a ten-foot pole. Not until they were back at the tower. He had a feeling the others would kill him if they didn’t get the full story at the same time, and they’d think of questions he wouldn’t, especially their own Natasha who would guess how her younger/other self diverted to avoid saying anything she didn’t want to.

“So you have your own brat,” his counterpart said with a huff. “Does she grow out of it?”

“Just worse. We have her own recovery room, though that about caused a cold war that Steve had to sit on before things got really ugly.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at both of them while James coughed to cover up a laugh.

*****

Lance had the look on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or yell. It crossed with concern and worry whenever he caught a glimpse of Clint the Younger in the corner, still carrying an unconscious Bobbi. “What _exactly_ happened to her again?” he said slowly.

“She got given a new toy and over did it,” James said, since Nat looked like she swallowed a lemon. “We gave her an injection to knock her out for a while until her system had a chance to stabilize. She’ll wake up when it does.”

Lance rolled his eyes heavenward. “God save us from Bob and her toys.”

Neither native to this reality were expecting the group cringe, making the sleeping Bobbi murmur as she was shifted until Clint the Younger adjusted her on his back.

“For the love of God, do not call her that,” Natasha hissed.

"What, why?" Lance sounded baffled.

"Because she doesn't like it, and have you met Bobbi when she doesn't like something someone she doesn’t know says about her?" Clint the Younger said the biggest understatement ever.

"Mum's the word then,” Lance quickly agreed.

"Good choice." James had an expression on his face that everyone was more used to seeing when the Winter Soldier was recalling fights he hadn’t wanted to be involved in.

“She didn’t actually stab you,” Clint the Younger pointed out.

“No, she stabbed Steve, which is probably more fitting since it was his stupid idea in the first place.”

“And if any of you had bothered to tell me, I would have called you all idiots and made sure it didn’t actually happen.” Natasha nipped the bickering in a bud. “Focus.”

Lance shook his head and held his hand up. “Get on the flight, I want nothing to do with this,” he said, sounding far too amused.

Clint the Older shared a look at him, not impressed and yet just a little amused. Dumping this in Steve’s lap was cruel and unusual…he liked it.

“Plane will be ready to take you across the pond in about an hour.” He eyed between the two Clints. “And this is going to be confusing as fuck for a while, ain’t it? How am I even supposed to be addressing you two?”

“Trust a Brit to be worried about manners,” the younger Clint muttered, making the real one cough to hide his laugh. Good to know he still had his sense of humor in another reality.

“I’ve been answering to James, assuming my other self here still answers to Bucky,” James quickly intervened, before Natasha smacked either of the Barton males.

“Natalia will do fine,” the younger Widow said stiffly.

“That’s great for you two, but we,” the younger Clint used his head to gesture between the two of them. “Don’t have such well-known names. Hawkeye would be just as confusing. And I am _not_ going by my middle name.”

“Men are such babies,” Natasha—Clint caught himself and rethought of her as Natalia—sighed. “Why not your codename from before you were Hawkeye?” That earned her a disbelieving look from all sides. “What? Oh come on, I was under mind controlling drugs and I still know you didn’t start going by Hawkeye until three months before we met.”

“Mind control drugs?” Lance asked the Clint he was familiar with.

“Not a clue what she’s talking about.” When he’d met their Natasha, she’d been under the influences of the Red Room, but nothing like a drug. Not to his knowledge.

“Fine,” the tense growl knocked him out of his musings. “Ronin it is.” Clint wasn’t familiar with the code name, and frowned at its implications. Maybe all wasn’t sunshine and roses for that reality either.

“And what about Bob…bi?” Lance quickly remembered to add the last syllable.

The newly dubbed Ronin shared a look with both Russians. “The obvious one is out,” Natalia said firmly.

“No arguments here,” Ronin said with a frown. “She usually comes after me if _that’s_ involved.” She huffed at him, but he ignored her. “You call her Barbara when you are annoyed at her, and that doesn’t seem to cause issues.”

Lance and Clint mouthed the last word at each other, wondering, even as Natalia slowly nodded. “Other than thinking she’s in trouble, it should be fine,” she agreed.

“She _is_ in trouble,” James reminded them, giving the girl a dark scowl as he remembered whatever it was she did. “About gave me a heart attack, remember?”

Natalia gave him a soft look that still made Clint’s heart ache about what might have been, even if it was a feeling he had long since dealt with and Bobbi knew about it.

Shaking his head, the British agent pointed them in the direction of a set of benches. “Just… Sit there,” he said, half-pleading. “And Clint, keep an eye on them. I’ll go send an alert out so everyone within reason knows what we’re dealing with here.”

“Two if I can spare them,” he quipped back, but herded the small group over to a bench. Natalia didn’t look completely happy about their info going on, but that was probably protection of James, if Clint were to guess. He had no way of telling her that they would be safe, that no one would threaten them. Their world wasn’t that kind.

*****

The jet took them straight to Stark’s private airfield, and they’d had an armored escort to the Tower. Clint had been amused by how Ronin and Natalia kept Barbara lying across their laps, refusing to let her go and leave her defenseless. It had been almost cute. (He’d refrained from pinching their cheeks and saying so.)

Their welcoming committee was the one and only Tony Stark. No business suit in site, just worn-out jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt that looked to be stained with engine grease rolled up to his elbows. Normally, that would not be comforting to Clint—he’d been lax because so far these parallel reality drop-ins hadn’t been expressly violent themselves, but he’d feel better with someone to back him up in a pinch. However, before he got too far with those thoughts, he saw the bracelets around Tony’s wrists. One of the portable suits. Okay, that would work.

“Now comes the bad part,” Tony said, sounding far too calm about the whole thing. In fact, he was almost bouncing on his toes. Great, that didn’t bode well for the future of any one’s sanity. “We’re going to have to quarantine you until Steve gives the all-clear to let you out.” He gestured to a steel table that Clint knew hadn’t been there when he left. “And that includes disarming.”

The younger group of Avengers shared looks and all but Ronin and the sleeping Barbara nodded. Both former Russian assassins made quick work—James was faster, he only had Ronin’s bulkier weaponry and a gun of his own versus all of Natalia’s assorted gear. Ronin had to have help from the other two to get his various knives off of him. Clint nodded slowly, noting that each of the weapons for his copy were what he would have on him. But when they reached for Barbara, Ronin took a few quick steps to the side.

“You didn’t get all her hold outs,” Natalia pointed out factually.

“Yeah, and she’s also drugged up to the teeth for at least another hour,” he said flatly. “I don’t care how good she’s gotten at vivid dreaming, she won’t be able to wake herself up.”

Natalia grimaced, as did both Tony and Clint. However, the Iron Man wasn’t about to let it go. “We can’t leave her armed.”

Ronin adjusted Bobbi again carefully as if gathering his thoughts. “And I’m telling you, I’m not leaving her unarmed either. That makes it _worse.”_

“‘She’ is right here…” a groggy voice mumbled, her voice muffled in Ronin’s shoulder.

It was startling, how quick Natalia was on Barbara. “You shouldn’t be awake yet,” she scolded, brushing blonde curls out of the way to get a good look at her face.

Bright blue eyes had issues focusing on Natalia’s face, but Barbara’s scowl was sleepy-grumpy rather than real anger. “What’d you give me?” she mumbled.

Ronin snorted, shifting her so it was easier for her to see the room. “You don’t know? You made it. It terrifies me that you don’t know what it is.”

“Ronin, shut up.” Natalia didn’t even blink as she handled her partner, even as she checked Barbara’s pulse. “We gave you the sedative you had on you to make the seizures stop.”

Clint grimaced. Great, he had a good guess on what caused her little episode then. They were going to have to set things up so they could track this little Mockingbird without being able to see her.

Barbara sighed. “Built up a little ‘mmunity to it, testing it,” she explained her early wake up, rolling her face to hide it back in Ronin’s neck. “’m fine, Nat.”

James facepalmed, even as Ronin stiffened up like he had been struck and Natalia’s eyes narrowed in a waspish glare. “Tell me you did not use yourself as a test subject!” she spat out.

“’Kay. Won’ tell you,” Barbara said with a yawn. “Can wake up now. Give him my knives.”

“How many did I even miss?” Ronin asked, curiosity tempering his obvious upset. Clint didn’t blame him, he didn’t like it when his wife used herself as the test subject either, but it wasn’t his call.

“Seven,” Barbara and Natalia said at the same time.

“Damn, I already took six,” he grumbled crankily. “Isn’t thirteen excessive?”

“Most of ‘em are for throwing,” Barbara explained, though from tone of voice alone Clint could tell she was about to drop off to sleep again.

Systematically, Nat began to remove them from various places. All of them were ceramic rather than steel, meaning it would have been almost impossible for a scanner to find them too if Natalia wasn’t being helpful. Clint made a mental note to have their own Widow do a search of her own down in the holding cells.

It was only his sharp eyes that let him notice the marks on her elbow when Natalia lowered a glove to remove a set from underneath the cloth. He reached out and snagged her hands before she had a chance to pull the fabric up. Careful of the younger girl’s elbow, he rotated it around so he could see the inside crease.

Little scars and dots lined the entire thing, heavy around the veins. When he glanced up to try and meet Barbara’s dozy eyes, he saw a couple of more needle marks just over the collar of her shirt, the scarring not nearly as bad but set in parallel lines down her spine before her shirt covered them up. “What the hell?” he breathed out.

She blinked at him, and then down at her elbow. Her befuddlement was obvious.

Natalia tugged at the glove to raise them. “She’s a universal donor,” she said. Reminding him. “The Red Room found that very useful.”

Clint almost felt sick, stumbling back and feeling something like tunnel vision coming over him. His Bobbi, in the Red Room?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully no one was too awfully out of character. There will be updates...I hope. This is sort of trash-I-work-on-when-nothing-else-is-working, so it updates when it updates. Hopefully it's amusing though for all us Mockingverse fans.


	2. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronin's fear about night terrors come true, Bobbi and Barbara have a chat.

Bobbi held up her hand. “Barbara,” she corrected him, though she looked a little shocked herself. “I’ve never been in the Red Room, aside from you know, recent years.”

“You asked for my side of the story, that’s what I was thinking,” Clint argued and then shrugged at the rest of the table. “After that, I asked our Natasha to search them, just to be safe. They didn’t have anything else on them, which says something, though to hell if I know what.”

“What about the camotech on Barbara?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were locked on the screen though, where security feeds showed the three cells of their prisoners. Ronin was pacing, Natalia was sitting in the most protected corner with James in his neighboring cell leaning so their backs were together, and Barbara was asleep on a cot.

“I took the power source out, it’s virtually useless right now,” Tony said, but to contrast Steve he couldn’t even look at the security feed.

Clint didn’t blame him. It was one thing for all of them to be hardened, and they’d all met Natasha old enough that it didn’t quite hit them. But this Barbara? She was a slap in the face of a teenager forced to grow up too soon in their world of assassins, super humans, and aliens/gods.

The various women who served as auxilory Avenger or were part of their crazy lives in other ways—Jennifer Walters a.k.a. She-Hulk, Carol Danvers a.k.a. Captain Marvel, Jane Foster, Pepper Potts, Gemma Simmons, Susan Storm-Richards a.k.a. the Invisible Woman, Colleen Wing, Misty Knight… Even the X-Men had been given an invite to girls’ night when Bobbi and Natasha had thought it was a good idea. While most had declined, Ororo Monroe a.k.a. Storm and Wanda Maximoff a.k.a. the Scarlet Witch had agreed. Now, though, they were all sharing looks. This was not their normal, or rather it wasn’t as much as the rest of the Avengers could help it.

Steve looked to Bobbi, his expression thoughtful. “One on one interviews, you think?” he said, though it was less a question and more feeling out where she was at.

She nodded to confirm, resting her chin in her hand. “Yeah… And let’s try pairing them up with our own versions of them to start with.” She glanced at the table and then back at them. “It might be different for mine because of such a different background, but the rest of us should be more familiar with past history and habits.”

Their leader nodded in agreement. “I want a live feed at the same time, and let’s do it one at a time too,” he added to the plan. “The rest of the team can observe here, in case something is missed.”

“They willingly gave up their weapons,” Thor interrupted, his voice a low rumble. He didn’t appear happy. “Should we not treat them with equal honor? They appear not to be attempting any subterfuge.”

“At least on the surface, but… I don’t like having two Red Room initiates together,” Natasha said. “And we still don’t know how they crossed over. Caution is better, at least until we have a better idea of what’s happening.”

Thor didn’t look happy about this, but with the decision made by Steve, he didn’t fight it further.

A harsh scream came from the screen. All their heads jerked up, and saw Ronin and Natalia both trying to get Barbara’s attention. Not that she appeared to be able to hear them, asleep…and screaming through it.

“Damn it,” Bobbi swore, and she took off for the door before anyone could stop her. Without even thinking about it, Clint was on her heels to follow her, and Natasha was behind him.

The cells were bulletproof, shatterproof glass that could have held in Bruce in a Hulk-fury if they had to. They were also soundproof in case of audio magic of frequencies. Without the mics from the camera feed, the line of cells was eerily silent. It was hard to miss the distress of Natalia and Ronin trying to find ways into Barbara’s cell. Even now, she restless rolled on the cot, the thin tear-proof blanket already on the ground or tangled in her feet.

Bobbi ran for the control panel and began to input her access code. Clint was right behind her, and frowned when he noticed that their presence actually seemed to worry Ronin even more. He was shaking his head and saying something.

Before he had a chance to puzzle it out, the door was open and Bobbi was inside. The screams were even louder than they were coming over the mics. “Hey,” she tried to soothe the girl awake without scaring her further, speaking first and then reaching for her shoulders.

Ronin hit the glass hard enough that Clint heard it. A warning. “Bobbi, wait—” he tried to stop her.

Too late. Barbara’s eyes snapped open, and those bright blue eyes so much like those he loved were like iced over steel. Her expression was too blank of any emotion. Barbara swung her legs up in a savage kick directly into Bobbi’s core.

She stumbled back only a step, but it was enough to give Barbara move to operate. She swung up and over, reaching for a weapon—any weapon.

“Barbara, _стоп!”_ Natasha shouted an order to stop in Russian, rushing in to join Bobbi in holding the teenager still.

It didn’t have any affect. If anything, Barbara fought harder. Clint hesitated to help, if only because of the narrow confines of the cell. Three people in there was pushing it, and the smallest was going to have the best maneuverability if he forced his way in. Natasha and Bobbi kept trying to get her attention, but her fugue state was unrelenting.

And then movement caught his eye. Natalia, shaking her head each time the other two women spoke and saying…something inaudible behind the glass. His ability to read lips kicked in. It wasn’t English and it wasn’t a Russian word he knew. A code word, maybe? Something Natasha had forgotten?

It didn’t matter, if it would work. _“Klavdiya!”_ he boomed at a parade yell.

Barbara froze, immediately after kicking his own Bobbi in the mouth and splitting her lip. She had her own bruises, so he couldn’t even be angry at the kid. That curiously blank face turned to look at him, giving Bobbi and Natasha the respite they needed to get her under their control.

“Klavdiya,” he repeated in case she had any smart ideas of fighting them, and Barbara’s brow minutely furrowed. She wasn’t fighting, though, in fact she was strangely lax as Bobbi pulled her down to sit down next to her on the cot.

“Clint, that’s not an order,” Natasha said, moving a wary step back. “That’s a _name.”_

“Yeah, well, it worked, whatever it was,” he grumbled. If she was going to back off, he was going in. He walked over and kneeled in front of his own Bobbi and this teenage duplicate. Barbara’s face was locked on his. “Barbara, wake up,” he said, shaking her leg slightly.

She blinked, and it was like watching the dead come back to life as her expression crumbled. It lasted only a second, and then she hid her face in her hands. “S-s-sorry,” she stuttered out between sobs. “S-s—“

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Bobbi quickly wrapped her arms around her other self’s tight shoulders to try and sooth her. She then appeared to give ground in order to gain trust, “I should have known you wouldn’t wake up sane from a nightmare.”

“T-t-thought you w-w-were my m-m-mother,” Barbara stuttered, trying to curl up tighter. It hurt Clint to hear her like that. If it was anything like his own Bobbi, she was only like that when truly scared.

“Your mother sends you into a homicidal rage?” Natasha asked in disbelief from the doorway.

“S-s-she…” Barbara stopped, took a deep breath and held it for a second. When she let it out, she lowered her hands a little. The calm on her face was artificial, but it wasn’t so deep that it freaked Clint out again. “My mother was the first Klavdiya,” she said, words carefully articulated and clipped.

“The first?” Clint prodded. When she stared at him, he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Barbara folded her hands in her lap and sat up straighter. It was the pose of a perfect little lady, and it freaked both Clint and Bobbi the fuck out. There was at least a faint tremble to show that this wasn’t as easy for her as it looked. “She was killing the good recruits by luck, potential Red Room graduates, but lacked any true talent of her own,” she said robotically. “They did not want to waste the work into her completely, however. So they allowed her out into the world to breed, to provide another Klavdiya to the program.”

“You,” Bobbi connected the dots with a sigh, grimacing. “Wow. I’m sorta glad my parents ignored me now. So you thought I was her?”

Barbara shrugged, looking down at her hands again. Bobbi and Clint traded looks over her head. He didn’t need her to say anything, and tried to give Barbara a nudge. He reached for one of her hands, taking it in his. “This is only going to work if you talk, Barbara,” he said. “We can’t let you out of here until we know for sure you aren’t a threat, which only takes time away from figuring out what happened to get you here in the first place.”

She stared at him, and then gave him a shove with her foot. “Fine, but you leave,” she said with a scowl.

“Why me?” he asked in confusion.

“Because you just make this face, and I just want to…” She trailed off and shook her head. “It’s bad for my control, let’s leave it at that. Shoo, Big Bird.”

“Right, no stabbing the Hawk like you apparently did your Captain,” he said, quickly standing up and taking a step back towards Natasha.

Barbara blinked, and then burst into giggles. Bobbi had to let go or end up with teenager in her lap. Instead, Barbara rolled on to her back on the cot. The other two took it as a cue to back out and go back to observing. Leaving just the two Mockingbirds. “Oh, they told you that story,” the teenager managed to gasp out.

“Yes, they did,” Bobbi said with an amused smile. “I’m surprised Steve let you on as an Avenger after that.”

That sobered the teenager, who pouted. “I’m not an Avenger,” she said factually.

“You’re not?” Bobbi said in disbelief.

“Stark has a stick up his ass.” Barbara shrugged and stood up off the cot. There wasn’t a lot of space, but she began to stretch her limbs out like she was working out tense muscles. “My age offends him.”

Bobbi snickered. That sounded about right. “Avengers should be able to drive,” she agreed.

That earned her a strange look. “I fly better than Clint, and can out drive Natasha,” she complained, moving to kick her foot up behind her head and holding it there. Bobbi tried not to be impressed. “And how old do you think I am anyway?”

Oooh, trick question. Bobbi tilted her head, leaning back against the glass wall and crossing her arms as she thought. When she was a teenager, there had been a bit of time where it was hard to nail down her exact age. But if she could already drive and fly that well. Add in the fact that this version of herself had already been in the forge and come out steel... “Seventeen,” Bobbi guessed.

Barbara grinned. “That was pure luck, wasn’t it?”

Bobbi tried to smile, and wasn’t sure if she succeeded. Only seventeen? Damn. She’d been hoping she was a few years off in the too-young direction. “So you’re still in high school?”

The teenager snorted, dropping one foot and doing the other leg. “Fury tried, part of his initial crusade to get me a civilian life out of the Red Room. Care to guess how well that worked out?”

Actually, no, no Bobbi didn’t. Barbara was using the same tone she and the others took on when talking about whatever happened with her, James, and their Steve. It wasn’t anything she wanted to step into if she didn’t have to. “So what do you do to keep yourself busy?”

Barbara gave her an appraising look. “Let me guess, your Clint has also coined the phrase, ‘Bored Bobbi is Bad Bobbi?’” she guessed, and then dropped her foot so they were both evenly on the ground again. “Poke my nose around in the labs that I know about,” she said breezily. “Take on a few odd jobs, when I can get them.”

Bobbi grinned at the nickname. “Clint doesn’t let me get too bored.”

That got Barbara’s attention. She turned around and eyed her counterpart, taking in that smile and frowning. She tilted her head in a mirror move that Bobbi was familiar with, as if trying to puzzle a bit of behavior out of thin air.

Bobbi quickly took up the conversation’s reins again before the teenager had too much time to think. “What were you doing on a quinjet if you aren’t an Avenger?”

“Oh that,” Barbara rolled her eyes and cocked her hip to the side. “Like I said, I fly better than Clint. The quinjet is actually one of Stark’s toys. I was brought along as a pilot-only sort of thing for a mission Capt sent the ‘grown ups’ on.” Adorably, she even used finger quotes. “And then proceeded to save their asses. You know, the usual. We were on our way back to the Tower when everything went whacko and we crashed.” She tilted her head. “Strangely enough, we weren’t anywhere _near_ England.”

Humming, Bobbi stood up as well. “Where was the mission?”

Barbara shrugged. “Some backwater city, you know how this goes.”

That wasn’t a good answer. “And who did you save the so-called grown-ups from?” Bobbi asked slowly.

Cheeky little thing just gave her an innocent blink and smile. “Well, I don’t rightly know,” she cooed. “I just saw guns being fired at my sister and the others, and had to intervene. I don’t ask questions.”

Intervene by trying out a fully-body camo tech suit for the first time and sending all the others on her team into what appeared to be hysterics. Bobbi snorted. “Sell that somewhere else. We both know better.”

Humming, Barbara took a few steps to the side. Bobbi mirrored her out of instinct. “Perhaps… But I’m not you, am I? How much is nature and how much is nurture? How much of you did my sister manage to save?”

“We’re both Mockingbird,” Bobbi argued. “And all I need is one sign that you’re above the board.”

The innocent look left, and in its place was one of anger, pain, and sarcasm. The real Barbara, under the cold Red Room mask or the friendly bubbly teenager she played for most people. “But the key part of being a mockingbird is taking on the mask needed for survival,” the teenager pointed out. “And right now? This bird is tired of being the one doing all the talking.”

They weren’t on good grounds. Bobbi could go more aggressive in interrogations, but once she did, there wouldn’t be any going back. Things would be soured permanently, and boy, did Bobbi know her own tendency towards grudges. She tried to relax the muscles that had unconsciously tensed up between her shoulders. “What do you want to know?” she asked, hoping it was the right thread to take.

Barbara paused, glancing at the glass walls. Bobbi took a look too. Natalia was leaning against the wall to where her back was almost against James’s, reverse mirrored like they were. It also let her watch their interactions, but she had her assassin-face on. Not much to see there. On the other side, Ronin was standing and pacing, keeping an eye on both of them. She noticed his eyes kept lingering on her, like he couldn’t figure something out. She wondered what puzzled him so much.

“What’s your full name?”

That caught her attention. “What?” Bobbi asked, confused.

“You asked me what I wanted to know,” Barbara said, giving that innocent, bubbly smile again. “And I want to know your name.”

This was a trick. She wasn’t sure how this was a trick, but it was. Frowning, Bobbi crossed her arms. If she could figure out how, she’d feel a lot better. But it seemed like such an innocent request. “Barbara Barton,” she said slowly.

Both Barbara and Ronin did a double-take. Right, the man could read lips. The reaction got Natalia off her feet in concern. The two then looked at each other… And while Ronin paled and quickly stomped towards the opposite wall to stare at an empty room, Barbara flushed and her expression could only be described as victorious.

“What the fuck did I just miss?” Bobbi had to ask.

“I have been trying to get that stubborn _ass_ of a man to see me as anything other than a kid since I was fifteen,” Barbara said. Jesus, she was almost _bouncing._ “But he has these pesky things called morals, it’s been most vexing. He’s cute even with them, but yeesh, _so_ annoying.” She waved her hands as if to brush the words away. “Anyway, this is _so much_ to use against him now.”

Bobbi coughed to try and stop herself from laughing. She could only imagine what poor Ronin had been through for the last two years. And now she had given the little Mockingbird more ammo. “Oh poor sport…” She couldn’t find it in her to apologize. It really would be in his best interest to quit wasting energy and give in.

“Anyway, as useful as that is, that isn’t what I wanted to know, though knowing in an alternate timeline I marry Clint is the ultimate win,” Barbara said, the happy smile fading down to something a little more human. “What’s your maiden name?”

It all clicked. Why she would want to kill her own mother, but only her mother. Why Natalia clung to her so hard, sister in all but blood. Why Fury had been the one responsible for trying to put her back as a civilian, even if it had failed. “You don’t remember who you are anymore, do you?”

Barbara looked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I just found out Bobbi is a confirmed Gemini, I friggin' GUESSED this back when I first took the character on. I feel VINDICATED!


End file.
